


How to Court a Jedi in Three (Easy) Steps

by DestielsDestiny



Series: Love Letters to a Jedi Master [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Awesome Bail, Awesome Breha, BAMF Leia Organa, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, BAMF Women, Bamf Bail, Bamf Breha, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Innocent Luke, Jedi, Multi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Polyamory Negotiations, Poor Obi-Wan, Pre-OT3, Pre-Poly, Women Being Awesome, waterfalls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielsDestiny/pseuds/DestielsDestiny
Summary: Bail climbs. Breha plans. And Obi-Wan waits.Or, the Organas seduction plans are repeatedly interrupted by a Kenobi and a couple of Skywalkers.





	How to Court a Jedi in Three (Easy) Steps

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is part of a much longer three part series that will chronicle the epic love story between Bail and Breha Organa, and the love of both their lives, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Will take place between chapters 13 and 14 of the first part of the trilogy, Padme’s Last Wish. The rest of the series will be posted...eventually.

Step One: Catching

“He’s down the Falls again.” Bail’s chin sunk nearly to his breastbone is a sigh that was part resignation, and part just plain tiredness. Finding a similar expression on his wife’s face, the Viceroy of Alderran nodded decisively at his Queen, and turned sharply back towards the double doors he had just walked through. 

“I’ll go get the climbing equipment then.” The again doesn’t even need to be groaned by this point. 

Breha counts the footsteps, cooing reassuringly in the face of Leia’s fussiness. She was always sensitive to any of her parents’ moods. Bail makes it to within a half-step of the door before about facing, and striding back towards his wife and daughter under the watch of Breha’s amused grin.

He spares half a moment to look sheepish, brushing a kiss against Leia’s forehead before leaning into Breha’s lips in a gesture more caress than kiss. This is not about romance. Not today. 

There had been a time that Breha, for all she was the eldest daughter of the most sensible and practical of Alderran’s royal maternal houses, had not the first inkling that there could be as vast an array of kisses as there could be smiles or laughs or frowns. 

That was long before she was in a relationship with two of the galaxy’s best diplomats. 

Or would be, she reflected ruefully, watching her husband brush a kiss against Luke’s sandy hair, the little boy apparently content to play with the latest toy ship Obi-Wan had carved for him in a habit that all three adults raising the Skywalker Twins pretended didn’t break all their hearts, if one third of this proposed relationship didn’t insist on spending large amounts of time vanishing into hard to reach places at the slightest quiver from the Force. 

Bail’s hand lingered on Luke’s head, the pulse of concern running between him and Breha as it always did when they were alone with the little boy these days. Animated and happy when Obi-Wan was present, Luke had begun falling strangely silent whenever the Jedi left the room before the twins had even reached the age of six months. Now, edging on a year of this worrying behaviour, not the least hint of an explanation could be found by either of them. The only reason their concern hadn’t tipped over into panic was the fact neither of the other two members of their little family seemed the least bit concerned by the boy’s strange behaviour. 

Dropping another kiss onto his son’s golden cowlicks, Bail sent Breha another pained smile, and headed in the opposite direction, towards the balcony overlooking the falls. The noise had long since been discovered to be a far better lullaby to sooth the royal line to sleep by than any artificial technology could produce. 

Bail nodded to the slightly open door, which come to think of it, Breha was positive she had shut earlier. “Apparently we left the climbing things out on the ledge last time.” 

And with a sardonic glance back at the crib, off Bail leaped. Pausing just long enough to hear the reassuring thumb of her husband’s boots finding a firm purchase on the first ledge leading down to the falls proper, Breha carried Leia over to her brother. Luke continued playing as if nothing had happened. 

Leia offered Breha her own version of Luke’s carved toy, her small voice carrying an almost musical quality. “Ma-Ma.” Breha closed her fingers around the Naboo cruiser, captured in infinite detail. Her laughter seemed to fill the room, and it could be her imagination, but Luke’s movements seemed just a touch less hurried. 

Pressing a kiss to her daughter’s dark hair, Breha grinned brightly at the now wide-open balcony doors. “It’s alright my dears, your daddies will be back soon.” 

There is no instruction manual to how to raise two force-sensitive children in a galaxy that is being slowly suffocated by darkness. And even if there was, Breha doubts such a manual could ever anticipate the sheer wonder that are Padme’s children, each and every day of their lives. 

But there is no instruction manual on how to fall in love with a Jedi Master either, and they seem to be doing alright on that count. Or rather, the twins seem to be doing alright, and her and Bail are slowly getting quicker on the uptake and following their children’s leads. 

Now, Breha thinks with satisfaction, Bail just has to bring Obi-Wan back yet again, and they can finally make some progress on figuring out how to keep their Jedi close. Right, sounds easy. 

Luke laughed suddenly and loudly and Breha dropped her head against the crib bars with a groan. 

Easy. Well, she can always dream. 

00 

“How to catch a Jedi, the Alderaan Senator edition. I bet it would be a best seller in the Empire. Vader could use it to give his Troopers helpful hints before training exercises.” Bail huffed out a laugh at his own terrible joke, attempting to sound as if he wasn’t completely out of breath as he puffed his way down the side of the palace. 

Breha had grown up climbing these roots, her sisters and her using only their hands and feet to guide them. Or at least, that’s the way his wife tells it. Bail has met her sisters, and he has trouble picturing any of them ever being that nimble. Or that adventurous. Except Breha. His wife now, she he has no trouble what so ever picturing making this climb, probably with her hands tied behind her back and her eyes shut. 

“So why doesn’t she go down after our resident escape artist then? Why do I always end up being the sent after Obi-Wan.” The voice, when it comes, nearly startles Bail right off his latest precarious and slippery perch. 

“Because your wife likes to see you sweaty and shirtless Viceroy.” They are nearly two-thirds of the way down the falls by this point, and through the intense spray, Bail can almost make out the soaked but serene figure of Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, hovering cross-legged in mid air directly under the most intense stream of the falls. 

Bail shakes water out of his eyes, his smirk lost in the encroaching darkness of the evening. Two can most definitely play this game. “I am not the only one my wife desires to see sweaty and shirtless Obi-Wan, as your senses undoubtedly make you well aware of.”

 

Naturally, that is the moment when Obi-Wan’s normally impeccable force control just sort of…slips. This had been happening with inconsistent frequency since the Order fell. Master Yoda had not hung around long enough to either witness this phenomenon, nor offer a plausible explanation, and Obi-Wan himself seemed less alarmed than resigned by the whole process, as if it was an old, familiar wound he had hoped had long since scarred over. 

All of which only served to slam home to Bail how very inadequate they were to handle this situation. They suspected that this, force slippage for lack of a better term to use, had more to do with the loss of Anakin than it did with the loss of the Order, but neither of them was of remotely cruel enough of a natural temperament to ever conscience broaching such a topic before Obi-Wan does, and it’s not like they have anyone else to ask. 

Risking all their lives to message Master Yoda about something they’re calling “force slippage” seems the height of absurdity, particularly as it has not yet proven dangerous. 

Yet being in the past tense now apparently Bail reflected acerbically, his right hand straining to maintain a hold on the rope hold above his head, his left pulled in the other direction by the weight of Obi-Wan’s soaked robe, the thin and singed fabric the only thing between one of the galaxy’s last two Jedi and oblivion.

Although he acknowledged, his teeth beginning to grind together painfully and would Obi-Wan just climb up him already, it’s not like they could just put through a comm to the Grand Master even if they wished to, since Obi-Wan’s only response to Breha’s latest query regarding Yoda’s location had been a singularly unhelpful, “Somewhere swampy.” And Bail is fairly sure that the Twins’ force searching is not yet that good. Fairly sure. Hundreds of meters down the falls is one thing, to be sure, but other planets? 

Bail’s fingers abruptly slip off the rope, and just like that they are both falling. 

For all of three whole feet, the rope slamming around Bail’s middle of its own accord, jerking all the air out of his lungs and leaving him handing over the middle of the falls, a wet and startled Jedi clinging to his back like a startled cat. 

Bail stretches his head up to be heard over the rushing water. “Fine time you picked to finally help us out.” 

Obi-Wan’s shout is somewhat redundant, in that it almost renders Bail deaf in one ear, but it’s a reassuring show of vitality none the less. “It’s not as if I can control it Senator.” That’s…not unexpected. They had been almost sure that was the case, despite Obi-Wan’s blasé attitude to the whole thing. But it is also hardly reassuring. Mostly because of that blasé attitude. That is the least of Bail’s worries in this moment however. 

“Obi-Wan, we’re literally hanging on to our lives by a fingernail here. You don’t have to sound as if you’re about to address a diplomatic conference!” 

Obi-Wan, Bail has long since decided, was definitely the resident little shit of the Jedi Order. “Technically it is more hanging by a wet dura-rope than our finger nails Senator-“ 

And that is precisely as much as Bail can take. “My name is Bail!”

Obi-Wan, damn him, remains utterly unperturbed by Bail’s increasingly flustered state. And there went his bet with Breha over who had the better poker face. 

“Perhaps this is not the most opportune time to be discussing appropriate terms of address Viceroy.”

Only Obi-Wan Kenobi could manage to sound regal while sopping wet and hanging by his finger tips from Bail’s shoulders, over the tallest tri-waterfall in the known galaxy. 

Bail gets a mouthful of waterfall for his troubles, but Force does it feel good to laugh about something.

And when, after several long moments, Obi-Wan tentatively joins in, Bail feels he could die right that moment, and it would be as a deliriously happy man. 

“As touching as that is Viceroy, perhaps you might refrain from dropping us off this waterfall. I imagine Breha would be rather upset with the pair of us.”

Bail often thinks the Force has a rather bizarre sense of humour. Knowing Obi-Wan frequently adds weight to that hypothesis.

00

Admittedly, it is Bail’s decision to ask the question while dragging Obi-Wan and his incredibly heavy cloak-which Bail knows they can’t leave behind because of those singes, another thing they will never be the first ones to mention-onto the relative safety of the narrow shelf of glass-stone some long forgotten architect chose to perch precariously behind the falls. The entire cliff face is dotted with the protrusions, of varying ages and sizes, making Bail suspect it was once a right of passage among newly minted guildspeople. 

Perhaps Alderaanian craftspeople had more of a death wish in the past. 

Still, Bail is only partly willing to assume the credit for how they almost lost their lives to the falls, for the second time that day. 

“Why the stars did you come this far down the falls?” Getting a better grip on the cloak’s hood, Bail was in the process of heaving them both backwards towards the reassuring bulk of the cliff face when Obi-Wan choked out a reply, the words almost lost of the roar of the water before them. 

“Luke called me Da-Da.” In Obi-Wan’s defense, Bail almost pitches them back into the water, so startled is he.

To his frequent, eternal regret, Bail never had the good fortune to meet Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And while he knows he would have to physically restrain Breha from strangling the man if such a thing ever became possible, and on the days when Anakin’s name hangs over all their heads like the poised lightsaber he is beginning to suspect it will always be Bail is sorely tempted to join her in her anger, there are also nights when Bail sits in his office listening to Obi-Wan’s distant sobs, and wonders how many of those tears are for the man’s first, and perhaps still, despite everything that came after, greatest loss. 

But regret and arguably irrational anger aside, Bail did have the good fortune of being an apprentice Senator under Finis Valorum. And as such, he was privy to many of the man’s personal musings. Including a great many tales about the love, exasperation, and concern Valorum’s friend Qui-Gon felt over his apprentice’s tendency to put everything and everyone in the galaxy, from kittens in trees to senators in hostage situations, before his own personal well-being. At the time, Bail had lacked the context to even put faces to names in those stories. 

Now, decades later, he would tack on his own personal happiness to the list of things Obi-Wan Kenobi considers the least important things in the entire galaxy. 

So no, Bail’s almost dropping them for a second time is not on account of surprise over Obi-Wan’s grief at this development, nor even over wonderment at the cause. He and Breha are well aware that Obi-Wan is frequently barely inches away from taking the twins and running, as far and as deep as he possibly can. They also know he’s constantly barely centimeters from leaving the twins with them and just running off to lose himself in an oblivion of guilt and despair. 

Anakin, damn him for eternity, had, in many ways, been more than just an apprentice to Obi-Wan. Bail knows this. He knew it from the moment Obi-Wan first crashed into his life, in a hail of broken glass and glowing lightsabers, an incapacitated assassin in one hand, a slightly worse-for-wear Padawan in the other. 

It only took one look at the Jedi’s face as he regarded the slightly woozy teenager with an exasperated frown warring somewhere between concern and frustration to see how he truly felt about the boy. The revelation had, once names were finally exchanged, added a lot of clarity to Valorum’s old stories. It was hard for Bail not to reflect on where then-Knight Kenobi must have learnt that expression. 

So no, Bail doesn’t have to wonder about the cause of Obi-Wan’s grief and anguish. It is hard to called father after you have lost your only child. Particularly by that child’s own son. 

Bail doesn’t have any answer for Obi-Wan on any of this. They’ve been making this up as they go since Bail made the decision for all of them how things were going to be after Padme’s death. 

And that right there is what startles Bail enough to nearly pitch them right off this ledge into the wet oblivion beyond. The fact that Obi-Wan apparently trusts them enough now to finally be honest with them. To finally actually respond to a query of what is wrong. To share his grief with them, even if he doesn’t yet quite trust them to be able to fix whatever it wrong. 

Bail surmises this last from Obi-Wan’s retreat down the side of a mountain to hide from them, but at least this time he hadn’t had to wait until Obi-Wan fell into unconsciousness from cold and exhaustion before bringing him back up again. Although in retrospect perhaps fetching the land speeder to retrieve Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been such a bad idea this time round either. 

After flinging them both back against the relative safety of the slick rockface, Bail regards Obi-Wan through the punishing spray. Water drips from the Jedi’s overlong hair, falling down his face like so much tears.

Bail feels his throat tighten further. 

Every night, listening to Obi-Wan’s distant sobs, Bail holds his wife close and asks, “What can we do?” And every night, Breha turns to him and says, “Be patient my darling. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.” 

Bail never doubted Breha would be proven correct. His wife is rarely wrong, particularly in matters concerning Obi-Wan Kenobi. He just wishes the Jedi had picked a safer spot to have this unprecedented heart-to-heart. 

Bail shakes water out of his eyes, a sly smile darting across his lips. “Well, I suppose you will have to call me Bail now. It wouldn’t do to confuse the twins after all, if one of their father’s called the other Viceroy all the time.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t dignify that with a response, beyond darting forward and wrapping an arm around Bail’s shoulders, before promptly hopping them both off the ledge into the spray below. 

Bail is still screaming when they hit the pool far below the falls, the Force slowing them at the last second so that they enter the water with barely a splash. 

Surfacing beside Obi-Wan is an exhilarating experience however, once he takes in the Jedi’s wild, grinning face. For just a moment, he looks as he did when Bail first met him, a lifetime and half a galaxy ago it seems like now. 

Obi-Wan appears to be standing in the water, for all these pools are at least a dozen fathoms deep. Bail treads water like the best of them, but even he creates the occasional ripple, in frustrating contrast to Obi-Wan’s still lake of surrounding water. 

A pale hand pushes wet, dark red locks from his eyes. Eyes that for the first time since the Skywalkers and their Kenobi arrived on Alderran, are as green-blue as the southern seas. 

“Thank you…Bail.” Water drips down Bail’s cheeks, and he pays no attention to whether it contains tears. 

But he knows that if it did, they would be tears of joy. 

00

Miles above their heads, Breha watches Luke roll over and curl into his sister with a contended sigh, and smiles, her eyes filled with tears of her own.


End file.
